I’ve never been one to write poetry. As someone who always loved English classes in school, poetry was the worst part. It just never came to me. Imagine my surprise when this little piece fell onto the page. It was very much an “emotional vomit”. For years it has sat in the dark. I’ve reread it a number of times, but never, ever, wanted to share it.
Until recently. In a discussion with a group of writers, poetry came up. If I was ever going to share, this was the time. My heart pounded so strongly, I could barely hear the sound of my voice. Admittedly though, I nearly crapped out. I came very close to not reading it.
It was interesting to see the reactions. I know what this poem means to me. It’s personal, which is why I hadn’t wanted to share. Would people know what it was really about? Seems not. Everyone brought meaning to it based on their experiences, their lives, their points of view. It was surprising and awesome.
These words are not a window into my thoughts and feelings. Right. And even if they were, so what?
In the spirit of sharing, in the spirit of releasing whatever meaning is still attached to this piece…. Here’s the first poem I wrote – many years ago.
Let it mean what you want it to mean. If that’s nothing, well, I’m a-okay with that too.
I Am Not You
You came to me in a time of need
Settled in so I would not bleed
The comfort was great
But is it too late?
It’s time to move on
Stifling me is wrong
Your intentions are honourable
But the result is frustration
I feel like I’m stuck
Too deep in this rut
I want to move on
I need to live life full on
Thanks for all that you did
For keeping me safe
For allowing me to breath
I’m ready now to be
So please set me free
I am not you
I am me
lisezfaire 